


What's His Name and Kelly-'ho

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-08
Updated: 2010-11-08
Packaged: 2019-05-30 09:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15093674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Donna is on a date from hell... with Josh?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Here I sit at a bar, waiting for a table, listening to my date talk about work. It’s not the subject I would’ve chosen, but since work in this case is 8th grade algebra and not politics, it’ll do. As he describes his students to me, I can’t help wondering if any of the young girls have a crush on him. He’s attractive, there’s no way around it. Blue eyes, dirty blond hair, broad shoulders, white teeth, great smile, decent butt. His voice is a little monotone, but I figure that’s about par for an 8th grade algebra teacher.

The more he talks, however, the more interested I become in my napkin. Only thirty minutes into the date and I’m bored already? My friend, Julie, keeps telling me to get away from politics, date “regular” people; is this what she had in mind? Passing out due to boredom thirty minutes into a date? Still, I can’t lay all the blame on her, I’m the one who agreed, albeit reluctantly, when what’s his name asked me out as we both stood sweating next to a pile of folded towels at the gym. Now I can’t help wondering if they’ll let me out of my contract early if this date goes badly. 

I take a sip of my white wine and feign interest, but I’m going to literally scream if he doesn’t change the subject soon. I don’t give a shit about school assemblies and detention duty. Can’t he tell that although I’m smiling, inside I’m beating my head against the table? Can we just get a table so we can eat and be done and I can go home and have Ben and Jerry’s to “celebrate” another disastrous date?

Wait a minute. What in the hell? I glance at the door and I see Josh walk in with… her. Of course, by her, I mean Kelly, the short brunette lawyer from the Department of Health and Children who had a meeting with Josh in the Roosevelt Room today and then asked him out right in front of me. Show some respect, lady, it’s the fucking White House. Sorry, this is my second glass of wine, which sometimes leads to swearing. Anyway, Josh glanced at me and smirked, and then accepted the little bitch’s offer. Bastard. What the hell are they doing here?

Did I mention to Josh where… I can’t remember his damn name…what’s his name and I were going tonight? Is he following me? Because if he is, I’m going to kill him. It is certainly not ok for him to flaunt his date in front of me and still play the jealous card. He has to choose. He can flaunt or he can be adorably jealous, but not both.

Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure the blame can’t be placed on Josh this time, which surprises me as much as it does you. What’s his name didn’t tell me where we were going until he picked me up, so there’s no way Josh knew, which means he’s not playing the jealous card, damn it. And why does that upset me? I’m supposed to be a strong, independent woman; why in the hell do I want my boss to act like a Neanderthal? I hang my head and sigh, knowing the answer to that question.

I laugh at something what’s his name says, but I watch them move towards the bar, silently berating myself for paying more attention to them than to my own very good-looking date. I try once again to focus on his words, but I can’t help leaving one eye on Josh. It’s sick, I know, but I’m trying to see if his hand is on the small of her back, guiding her to the bar. I know I don’t have a right to claim this as my thing, but…well…I do. Ah hah! He just stopped at Congressman Hamilton’s table and pulled his hands out of his pocket to say hello! Yes!!! Again, I hang my head in shame. 

When the Congressman points to me a minute later, I quickly turn my head back to what’s his name, flashing him a big smile and nodding at whatever it is he’s talking about, pretending to care. I put on my best “interested” face and ask if he’s ever considered teaching high school math. He quirks his head to the left and stares at me, as if to say we’ve already covered that, and I bite my lip, knowing I’ve been caught not paying attention. I’m trying to think of something charming to say when I hear Josh call my name. Why do I have a bad feeling about this?

“Donna, hi,” he shouts over the crowd from about five feet away as he walks towards me, Kelly-‘ho behind him. I’m gonna call her that. You don’t mind, do you?

“Hey,” I call back, acting surprised and nodding my head at him. From the corner of my eye, I see what’s his name look at me and then follow the direction of my gaze.

Josh pushes his way through the crowd until he’s standing next to me. “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he says, smiling.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here either,” I say a little defensively. Where the hell did that come from? 

“Spur of the moment decision. They’re pretty busy tonight, I didn’t even see you when I came in. Congressman Hamilton pointed you out to me,” he says, hooking his thumb towards the congressman’s table. Remind me to thank the good congressman later by, I don’t know, egging his house.

“Oh? I didn’t see him here,” I lie, finishing my wine. “He talk your head off about 485?” 

“Not too bad, it’s his wife’s birthday. She’d kill him if he spent the whole night talking shop.” He looks me over, which is another one of the Neanderthal things he does that should piss me off as a strong independent woman. Instead, it makes me feel all warm and gooey inside. “You look nice. New dress?” he asks, motioning for the bartender.

“No, I just don’t wear it that often,” I say with a beaming smile on my face. A compliment from Josh is about the most amazing thing in the world, because he doesn’t just hand them out. They’re only given if he means them. 

The bartender come up and he orders. “Another glass of wine, and I’ll have a whiskey sour,” he says, handing the man a twenty.

“Hi, I’m Mike. Mike Grostefon.” Oh shit! I totally forgot he was here. He stands up and sticks his hand out to Josh. 

My mouth must be wide open in humiliation at having completely forgotten I’m here with a date. Josh looks equally as mortified as he looks behind him at a frowning Kelly-‘ho. “I’m sorry,” I say. “Mike, this is Josh. Josh, Mike.”

Josh looks him over but doesn’t reach out and shake his hand. Typical. “Nice to meet you,” he says reluctantly. After that, there’s a moment of awkward silence, while what’s his n…Mike… stares at Josh and me and Kelly-‘ho. “This is…Kelly,” Josh finally says. Much to my disappointment, he leaves off the ‘ho.

“Nice to see you again,” she says to me. I recognize the ‘I hate you and I know you hate me’ fake smile she gives me immediately. I’ve seen it many times before from the women in Josh’s life. I received it first from Mandy. I received it the most from Amy. I received it once from Joey Lucas when no one else was around, and I received it once from a male governor, whom for his protection, I won’t name. After a second, Kelly-‘ho turns to Mike. “It’s a pleasure Mike. You’re dating Donna?” Bitch.

“He’s my date,” I amend quickly, stealing a glance at Josh, who keeps his eye on Mike the whole time, but smirks a little when I correct her. Hmm, he’s giving Mike the same look Kelly-‘ho’s giving me. 

The bartender sits the two drinks down on the bar, and Josh stares at the glass of wine, no doubt wondering how he got into this mess. “Wine?” he weakly asks, offering the glass to Kelly-‘ho.

“I don’t drink white wine,” she says, obviously irritated. I can’t really blame her for this. Her date forgot she was here and ordered a drink for another woman. I knew he sucked at the woo thing, but this has got to be a bad one, even for him. “I’ll have a gin and tonic.” 

“Right,” he says slowly, handing me the wine and motioning once again for the bartender.

“How do you two know each other?” what’s his… Mike asks hesitantly, motioning between me and Josh. I need to remember his name, don’t I?

“We work together,” Josh says quietly. I smile at him. I love how he never says, ‘she works for me.’

“Oh!” Mike says, with a look of relief on his face. If only he knew… “That’s great, you work at the White House too. Must be awesome.” When he says this, I can’t help staring at him. He hasn’t asked me a single thing about the White House or my work. I mentioned when he asked me out that dates are sometimes hard to schedule in advance because of work emergencies. He asked where I work and I said the White House. He didn’t seem to care, and it hasn’t come up again.

Josh just nods at him. “And what do you do?”

“I teach. Eighth grade math.” 

Kelly-‘ho takes the drink the bartender brought her from the bar and turns to Mike. “There’s a push to get more men teaching in the elementary and middle school levels. Kids without fathers need male figures in their lives before high school.” Don’t. Don’t start liking her because she works for the Department of Health and Children. She’s just their lawyer. Learn from your past mistakes. You liked Amy at first because she worked for the Women’s Leadership Coalition and made balloon animals for her nephews. Then she turned out to be the devil and made Josh’s, and in the process, my life a living hell. Just take my word for it and hate this one from the beginning. She’s the typical Josh-type woman. Power hungry and bitchy.

“Not to mention the need for their actual fathers,” I say under my breath. Kelly-‘ho looks at me and knows I’m being snide. Of course I’m being snide. You’re on a date with my future husband! Am I supposed to bond with you in the ladies room while we powder our noses? And I had to be snide, because she was right, damn it. If she would’ve said something stupid, I could’ve showed intellectual superiority, but no… 

“And Donna, do you like being Josh’s secretary.” Ouch. See, I told you to hate her.

“She’s my assistant,” Josh says sternly before I have a chance to say anything. Huh? 

“Sorry, Donna,” Kelly-‘ho says with a big fat fake smile on her evil little face. “I didn’t mean to be un-PC.” 

“That’s ok, I don’t mind,” I say in my sweetest voice. “There’s nothing wrong with being a secretary. You work hard, you earn a living, who cares what you do? Besides, Josh wouldn’t make it a day without me.” Take that, whore.

The conversation continues for a few more minutes, which means that basically, I’m in hell. I’m standing with the world’s most boring, and possibly most attractive middle school math teacher on one side of me, who I’m on a date with by the way, the love of my life on the other side of me, who just happens to be my boss, and his date directly in front of me, who don’t fool yourself, is shooting daggers at me every chance she gets. It can’t get any worse than this.

What’s his name is completely at ease here, which tells me that he either doesn’t see the elephant in the room, or he sees it and likes watching it try to hide. Josh is having fun belittling him without belittling him, and Kelly-‘ho is quite plainly a bitch and not trying to hide it at all. In the seven, oh God has it only been seven minutes, we’ve been standing here, she’s managed to put down secretaries, professional baseball, and…well…me. This has got to be the worst first date of my life.

And what’s with all the touching? Touching his hand, laughing at a joke he makes while lightly grabbing his forearm, batting her eyelashes and shifting into him…I could be sick. It’s their first date; is she trying to mark her territory? Cause I gotta tell you; fifty bucks says if I leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek right now, he’d have me against this bar and naked before Kelly-‘ho even knew what was happening. 

Finally, just before I rip her hair out of her head, the hostess comes over to us. “I can seat you now.”

“Us, or them?” what’s his name asks. I’ve forgotten it again. Somehow, I’m not seeing a future here.

The hostess looks at her clipboard. I would love a job where I could control things just by looking at a clipboard. “Umm…I have a table for Grostefon, but it holds four if you’d like to dine together.” Wow. That would suck. 

“The two of you are welcome to join us,” what’s his name says to Josh. What????? 

“No!” I think I scream. Everyone looks at me like I’m nuts. They can’t want to eat together. The last twelve minutes have been horrible; surely they’ve noticed it too. “I just…I…they’re on their first date. We… don’t want to disturb them.” 

Josh looks at me and smirks again. Oh no, I know that smirk. He’s having fun with this. “Actually, I think it’s a great idea. The four of us can get to know each other better,” he says, holding his arm out to let me pass. 

My eyes bug out of my head and I give him a ‘you’ll pay for this’ look, but it’s too late. We’re being led to my death; it’s in the shape of a table for four in the corner by the fireplace. Just kill me now.


	2. What's her face and Monotone Mike

This ought to be fun. Donna’s giving me looks that could kill, but that’s nothing new, so I’m just gonna ignore them. You can’t tell me that she really wants to have dinner alone with Monotone Mike over here. I’m doing her a favor. She should be thanking me. 

And I admit, this serves several purposes for me as well. First of all, I’ve been given the chance to see Donna in date mode. This is something I’ve dreamt about an infinite number of times. Granted, I’ve always dreamt that I was the date, but that’s another subject altogether. 

Second, I am going to witness the gomer of the night attempt to understand this amazing creature that no man will ever understand. Even I don’t understand her, and I’ve been studying her for years. I freely admit that Donnatella Moss is the most complex and difficult subject I’ve ever studied. She’s also the subject I long to know more than any other. Watching Monotone Mike try to “get” her is going to be entertaining. 

Third, I’ve got the opportunity here to be the man he can’t be while he’s trying to be him. Does that make sense? Let me explain. Go back to number two. This man can’t understand her, we’ve already determined that. I can’t understand her either, the last several years have proven that. However, I’ll come closer than him. I know intricacies about her that he won’t know. For instance, she hates it when a man orders her meal for her. She’s grossed out by the thought of frog legs, lamb, rabbit, and other unconventional meats. She’s put off when someone drinks too much, unless the point is to go out and get drunk. She exhibits utter patience with waiters and waitresses. For her to ask for the manager, the waiter would have to, I don’t know, light her table on fire and punch her in the nose. 

Fourth, and this is a big one, I do not want to eat alone with this wench of a date I’m with. She’s a nightmare. She’s like Amy and Mandy combined. Within five minutes of meeting for dinner, she’d made a comment about my tie. When we got here, she complained that the hostess didn’t recognize me and seat us immediately. Then just a few minutes ago she commented about Donna being my secretary. What the hell? Plus, she said that professional baseball is little league for men who never grew up. What is it with women who think treating men badly is a turn-on? What is it with me continuing to date such women?

So, back to the story. The hostess, God love her, suggests that we eat together. Monotone Mike thinks it’s a great idea; obviously he’s never been in love with a co-worker. Donna protests, what’s her face looks on in disinterest, and I agree that eating together would be a fine idea. I gesture for what’s her face and then Donna to go ahead of me, and we walk to towards a table in the back near the fireplace.

“Josh,” Donna whispers. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I whisper back. 

“We’re both on dates; you can’t do that.”

“Do what?” What is she talking about?

“That,” she whispers, reaching around her back and yanking my hand off of her. 

“I was just…”

“I know, but…” she nods towards what’s her face and Monotone Mike.

“Fine.” Just because I’m on a date, I’m not allowed to touch Donna, how is that fair? I can’t help it. That’s what I do. My hand gravitates towards her lower back. It’s our thing. And don’t fool yourself; she likes it as much as I do. I feel the shiver that goes up her spine; I feel her lean back into my touch just a little bit; I know she waits to walk until we’re set in hand-on-lower-back position.

We get to the table and I hold the chair next to me out for her. Unfortunately, so does Monotone Mike, and that’s the chair she chooses. It’s just for show, of course; fifty bucks says if I put my hand on top of hers on the table right now and ran my thumb over her knuckles, we’d be having sex in a cab before what’s her face and Monotone Mike even knew we were gone.

So here we sit; Donna next to Monotone Mike and across from me, me next to what’s her face, who’s across from Monotone Mike. Let the games begin.

We’re sitting for all of about thirty seconds when Donna excuses herself to use the restroom. The waiter comes up and takes our drink orders while she’s gone. Monotone Mike orders a Heineken. Watch it there buddy. What’s her face orders another gin and tonic. Hopefully it’ll improve her mood. Then the waiter turns to me. Here I go. “I’ll have a club soda. She’d like a water, no lemon, no ice,” I say, pointing to Donna’s chair. Lyman one, math guy zero.

“No lemon, no ice? Is that her way of being classy?” I bet you know who asked that.

“She likes her water tepid. She’s…”

“Eccentric?” asks Monotone Mike with a smile.

“Quirky,” I reply.

“You two know each other pretty well. You must spend a lot of time together.”

I shrug. “Twelve, fourteen hours a day.” He laughs like I’m kidding, but I just look at him.

“Oh. Really?”

“It’s a busy job.”

“Do you really need her there all that time?” what’s her face asks.

“I can’t do my job without her doing hers. We’re a team.” And you’re a bitch.

The waiter comes back a minute later with our drinks, and right after that, Donna comes back from the restroom. She’s reapplied her lip-gloss. She notices her water and gives me a small smile.

“Josh was just telling us that you have an insane work schedule,” Monotone Mike says once she’s sitting down. He didn’t stand and hold her chair for her, by the way.

She smiles at him. “We only have eight years to make a difference. It comes first for now.” It tugs at my heart a little when she says that. She and I sacrifice on a whole different level than those we work with.

“I understand,” he says, casually putting his arm on the back of her chair. I know this move, in five minutes it’ll move to her shoulder. Bastard. “I feel like that with my students. I only get them for nine months, then I send them off and hope I’ve made an impact.” Damn it. Monotone Mike scores. 

“Is this guy ever going to take our order?” what’s her face asks. 

“I’m sure he’ll be back in a few minutes. They’re very busy,” Donna defends the guy. I could be wrong, but judging by the look she’s giving her, I don’t think Donna cares for what’s her face.

“So, Mike, where do you teach?” I ask. 

“Brown Academy, in Alexandria.”

“A private school?” I ask, taking a drink of my club soda.

“Yes.” Oh, so he’s poor. Good to know.

“I’ve always thought of inner-city teachers as heroes.” I can’t put down teachers, so this is my way of a dig. Let me rephrase that. I’d never put down teachers. I think teachers are over worked and underpaid, and I wasn’t lying when I said that I think of inner-city school teachers as heroes. They teach in the one place no one else even wants to go. Private school teachers, however? Not heroes.

“I’ve always thought of them as getting the raw end of the deal,” what’s her face comments.

Donna glares at her and turns to Monotone Mike. “What made you choose private education?” Donna’s not a fan of private education. I don’t think tax dollars should pay for them, but I don’t have a problem with them in general. Donna does. She thinks students in private schools miss out on multiculturalism and multi-social structures. They also have fewer advanced classes, fewer remedial classes, fewer foreign language classes, and fewer arts classes. 

He shrugs. “Fewer discipline problems, smaller classes, freedom to teach religion, and less of a focus on the non-essentials.”

“Non-essentials?”

“Music, art, dance, stuff like that.” Oh. Bad move buddy. You just un-scored, if that’s possible. Donna’s a freak about the arts. 

“You think the arts are non-essential?” she asks heatedly, eyes bugged out of her head. He promptly moves his arm from her chair. Yeah, that’s right, she’s not your typical date, teacher boy.

“Yeah. I mean, they’re great, but not important like math, science, and language.”

Donna looks at him and then at me like she can’t believe she heard that. I motion for her to take it from here, and she turns back to him. “Students involved in arts programs have a higher overall GPA.”

He shrugs. “Arts classes are easy A’s.”

“Did you know that the average SAT score for students involved in arts programs is 1053, compared to the 971 average of students who aren’t involved in the arts?”

“That just proves that smarter kids take arts programs.”

“Or that arts programs teach students to think rather than memorize. A beginning band student learns more in their first year of band than in any other subject he or she takes that year.” This is fun. Monotone Mike looks at me for help, but I just smile at him. Good luck outwitting the amazing Donnatella Moss. I’ve only managed it once, and it took a school history book to do it.

“What about money? The arts take up a huge chunk of school funding.” I think this guy’s a republican. I should’ve guessed. They’re drawn to her; she’s like a republican magnet.

“A band director teaches 60% more students each day than a classroom teacher does. If they weren’t there, you’d have to hire three regular teachers to take their place. They’re saving the school money,” I shoot back. Donna looks at me and nods. Monotone Mike looks at me like I’m supposed to be on his team and I deserted ship. Doesn’t he know I’m the enemy?

“I’m going to ask for the manager. This is ridiculous,” what’s her face says out of nowhere.

Donna looks at me, clearly wanting me to defend the waiter. I look around the room until I see him and give him the universal “we’re ready” nod. “Here comes our waiter.” This makes Donna smile.

He walks up and asks if we’re ready to order. “We’ve been ready,” what’s her face spits out at him. “I’ll have the grilled chicken Florentine with no ham and no cheese. And I don’t want it cooked with butter. Instead of the baked potato, I want broccoli, and I don’t want butter or salt on that either. I don’t want any cheese, bacon, croutons or egg on my salad, and instead of dressing, just bring some balsamic vinegar.” Great, she’s one of “them.”

The waiter looks over at Donna. “And for the lady?” he asks as though he wasn’t just speaking to one. I choke on a laugh and Donna looks down at her menu and smiles.

“Thank you Jeff, I’ll have the chicken teriyaki with vinaigrette dressing on my salad.”

I lean over the table and talk quietly to her. “You don’t like their teriyaki sauce.”

“No, I don’t like it at Morton’s,” she replies just as quietly.

“You don’t like it here either, you said it was too sweet.”

“Are you sure?”

“We sat over there,” I say, pointing towards the kitchen. “With Toby and Leo. You ate my burger.”

“Maybe I just liked your burger.” I look pointedly at her. “Right.” She glances at the menu and then up at the waiter. “You better make that the fettuccini alfredo with chicken and broccoli.”

“Yes, ma’am. Sir?” he asks, looking at me.

“New York strip. Well done. Extremely well done. Butterfly it please. French Fries and the ceasar salad.”

He nods and turns to Monotone Mike. “Sir?”

“The veal, medium. Smashed potatoes and ranch on my salad. And can I have another Heineken?” I catch Donna’s eye and she makes an “ick” face. Veal: another one of those unconventional meats she doesn’t like.

Once the waiter’s gone, what’s her face pounces on Donna. “Pasta and alfredo sauce? Most women have to be careful of what they eat. You must be one of the lucky ones,” she says, as though Donna’s committed some crime by enjoying her food.

Donna smiles one of those smiles that’s too big and really means that she wants to reach across the table and slap the woman. You know the one. “Guess so,” she says dryly. 

“What do you do?” Monotone Mike asks her.

“I’m a lawyer,” she says. “I work for the Department of Health and Children.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

She shrugs. “It’s a job. I’d rather be working for the senate minority council.” 

“What do you do with the Department of Health and Children?”

“I work on legislation that concerns health or kids. I mostly work on language for bills that are being drafted.”

“So you don’t actually weigh in on the content; just the wording?” Donna asks.

What’s her face gives Donna the evil eye. “Like you, I’m behind the scenes. Of course, I make sure it’s legal. You…”

“Provide the research that helps the administration determine what side we’ll fall on.”

“Research that anyone could find, given a computer.” Hmm… should I step in and save her?

“Possibly, but the research I do gives me an insight to all sides of an argument, which means Josh often uses me as a sounding board or to play devil’s advocate. So, it’s not so much the research as what I do with it.” Nope, she’s ok on her own.

“So, where’s the coolest place you’ve ever been for work,” Monotone Mike asks while we’re eating our salads. I mention that we’re eating our salads because he talks with a full mouth.

“I don’t know,” Donna shrugs. “We never really have time to be tourists. It’s usually in and out.”

“We don’t like Indiana,” I tell him. 

“Indiana’s fine, Josh.”

“No it’s not. Indiana’s from the Twilight Zone. The time Twilight Zone.”

Monotone Mike looks at me. “Come on, Indiana… the Indy 500, Bob Knight, Steve Warner…”

“Bob Knight’s in Texas now,” Donna tells him. 

“I don’t watch Nascar.” I have a life.

“It’s Indy car.”

My eyes get big. “I don’t watch that either.” Is there a difference?

“Who’s Steve Warner?” what’s her face asks.

“You don’t know who Steve Warner is? He’s a country singer.”

“Oh, I prefer classical,” she says as though this makes her better than him.

This gets Donna’s attention. “Really, what do you like?” Now, I have to give it to Donna here. She asked that in a completely genuine voice. She wasn’t being snarky at all.

What’s her face looks at her, giving her an evil eye. “I like Bach fugues and inventions, I like Porta’s Numitore. I like Scarlatti.”

“Domenico or Alessandro?”

She raises her eyebrows at Donna. “Domenico, mostly.”

“So you’re really a fan of baroque more than classical?”

“I guess so,” she says.

Donna smiles at her and then turns to Monotone Mike. “It’s a shame none of your students will be familiar with Domenico Scarlatti. He was a genius.” Then she smiles and takes a bite of her salad. The whole sex in the cab thing is getting tempting.

When dinner comes, I immediately turn my plate so my fries are close to Donna. I do this out of habit. I’ve given up on keeping her out of my food, so I just go ahead and make it easier on her. She’s concentrating on her chicken, but she keeps glancing over at Monotone Mike’s veal. I know she’s biting her tongue. Let’s see what I can do to help that. “How’s the veal, Mike?”

“It’s great. I love veal. It’s not one of those things I make at home, so I only get it when I go out. Do you like veal?” Yes, but I’m not about to tell him that. I’m also not going to lie. You’re either for eating animals or you’re not. I don’t see where you get to pick and choose. You kill it when it’s young or old; it’s still going to end up on your plate. Donna, of course, disagrees with this theory whole-heartedly.

“I prefer adult cow.”

“Burnt adult cow,” Donna adds, taking a fry from my plate. What’s her face jerks her head towards us when this happens, but then continues eating her dry chicken and spinach combination. And she gave Donna a hard time about her meal? 

“Well, this is great veal. It’s very tender.” Donna looks at him, points her fork at him, and then re-thinks it and goes back to her food. I notice that her glass is empty and motion for the waiter to refill it.

“What kind of movies do you like, Donna?” Monotone Mike asks a few minutes later.

“All kinds, really.”

“No you don’t,” I remind her.

“Yes I do.”

“You don’t like horror movies, you freak out and have to stay at my place.” This earns a head tilt from Monotone Mike. That’s right, buddy. Overnight. How do you like that?

“I like them, they just scare me.”

“What about The Sixth Sense? For two weeks, everyone you passed, you asked if I saw them too.”

“Well, yeah…” she says, eating another fry. I combat this by taking a bite of her pasta. This earns us a glance from both Monotone Mike and what’s her face.

When we leave, we all walk out together, and out of habit, I put my hand on Donna’s back again. She wiggles away and walks up next to Monotone Mike, leaving me with what’s her face. He puts his arm around her and I suddenly have the desire to kill him. I should control that desire.

And when we get outside, I know that he’s going to take her home and I’m going to take home what’s her face, who’s name I can’t remember, but it doesn’t stop me from trying to turn the tables. “You know, Donna lives near me,” I say. That’s untrue, but he doesn’t know it. “It might be easier for her to share a cab with me…us,” I say, motioning towards what’s her face. Donna looks at the ground and smiles. She might complain, but she thinks I’m cute.

“Nah, I don’t mind,” Monotone Mike says, shaking his head slightly and leaving his arm around her waist.

“Well, ok then.” Damn it. Is he gonna try to sleep with her? Is this guy going to try to get lucky, and if he tries, is he going to? I don’t want to put her down, but she slept with Cliff on their second date. What to do…what to do…

He shakes my hand. “It was nice meeting you Josh. You too Kelly.” Kelly, that’s it!

“You too.” I look at Donna. “You’re ok getting home?” I ask her quietly. Please say no. Please say he’s a freak who had two Heinekens and you’re afraid he’s going to try something and you need me to protect you. PLEASE!

She smiles and nods. “I’m fine, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Right,” I mumble as she steps into the cab waiting for them. And then it hits me. “Right! I need you there early. Very early, 5:30. And I need you to be alert. Big meeting; we need to be on top of the game. Get a good night’s rest.” a.k.a. don’t have sex.

Then the cab door closes and the next one pulls up. I open the door for what’s her face. I hope she lives close-by. I don’t think I can take her all alone for long.


	3. What's His Name and Kelly-'ho

My alarm goes off at 4:30. 4:30, people! I can barely open my eyes, but I don’t really need to be able to see to call Josh. I plan on giving him an extremely hard time today about something, but at this early hour, I can’t quite put my finger on what it is. No need to worry, it’ll come to me. I pick up my cell from the nightstand and hit pound-1. 

When he picks up, I hear a crash followed by swearing. Did he knock over a lamp or something? It was pretty loud. Finally, “Lyman,” comes out as a mixture of a groan, a sigh, and a cough. I pull the phone from my ear as he hacks into it. Get a glass of water, would you?

“Wake-up,” I groan back.

“Why?” Still groaning.

“We have to be in the office in an hour.” This man can’t function without me. 

“What time is it?” I can picture him lying there with his eyes closed, boxers and a t-shirt on, arm thrown over his face, the beginning traces of morning stubble, lying flat on his back with his extremely ugly comforter pooled at his waist and his left foot sticking out the end. I’d be lying if I said it was an unpleasant picture.

Of course, I don’t’ say that. “4:30. I don’t know anyone else in the world who makes what I make and goes into the office at 5:30 on a Saturday morning. It’s not right. It is, however, the life I’ve chosen for myself. So get up and lets change the world.” See, to you it sounds like I’m waking up, like I’m invigorated, but that entire little speech of mine came out completely muddled and a third lower than I usually speak.

“5:30?” 

“4:30.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds and I wonder if he fell back to sleep. “I’m confused,” he finally gets out.

So am I. “It’s 4:30 now. You said we needed to be in at 5:30.”

“I what? When did I say that?”

“Last night after…” Ahh…yes. Now I remember what I’m going to give him a hard time about today. I’m not mad about him crashing my date. I know I was skeptical at first, but the truth is, he made it bearable. Plus, he stopped me from ordering the teriyaki chicken.

“Oh, right. See… that…well…”

“What?”

“Uh…”

“Wake-up, Josh.” What’s his deal? Good thing no one’s bombing anyone; he’s a basket case.

“I’m up. I just…are you alone?”

What? What kind of question is that? “Josh, I haven’t had a roommate in three years.”

“I meant… never mind.”

What’s he talking about? Does he mean… “Ohhhh…are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Alone?” I shouldn’t be asking this. This is inappropriate to ask him. Ah, screw it, he asked me first.

He pauses for a minute. Is she there now? Is that why he’s fumbling with answers? Is that why he’s so out of it? Did he get even less sleep than me? Did he sleep with her? Yuck! “If I answer, will you?” 

“Yes.” We’re negotiating date disclosure at 4:30 in the morning? What kind of sick relationship do we have?

He pauses for a few seconds. “Yes, I’m alone.”

“Did you just get alone, or has that been an ongoing evening thing?” Well, that was awkward.

“It’s too early to speak Donna, you’re going to have to make sense.”

“Have you been alone all night?”

“Ahh…yes. And you?”

“I’m alone,” I say slowly. 

“And have you been alone all night?”

Might as well start giving him a hard time now. “I didn’t agree to answer that.”

“Oh…” He abruptly stops talking and it’s quiet for a few seconds. “Well…” He sounds disappointed. 

“Yes Josh,” I say with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ve been alone all night.”

“Oh!” Now he sounds happy, which makes me smile more than it should. “Well, we don’t have to be in the office until 9:00.”

“What?”

“The thing got cancelled.”

“The thing got cancelled?” Why didn’t I have prior knowledge to this thing? And what is the thing, anyway?

“Yeah, it was… on my machine when I got home last night.” On his machine last night and he didn’t call to tell me? That’s unlike him. Wait a minute. Wait a damn minute. There was no thing, was there? I know it’s early, so I could be hallucinating, but I don’t think there was a thing. I think Josh was being Josh and making sure I didn’t have sex last night. Like there was any chance I was going to sleep with what’s his name.

“It was?” I deadpan.

“Of course it was,” he says in his Screech voice. “How else would I know it was cancelled?”

“You’re lying?” I ask plainly.

“Yes,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“Fine. I’m going back to bed now, and I’m not calling you at eight. I’ll see you at nine. You should bring bagels.”

“I should bring bagels? You’re the assistant, shouldn’t you bring bagels?”

“You’re going to want to make up for lying to keep me from having sex.”

“That was hardly the first time I’ve done that. I’ve never been punished for it before.” This is his reasoning? He’s never been punished before for meddling, so why should he be now?

“And the re-lying this morning about the answering machine.”

“But… I fessed up to it.” Now he’s whining.

“And the getting me up at 4:30 in the morning thing.”

“Right. Cinnamon raisin?”

“Yes, and don’t forget cream cheese.”

**********

When my alarm goes off again at eight, I’m much more alert. I’m also not in the foul mood I’m usually in after a bad date, and this concerns me a little bit. Several times last night, I felt like I was on a date with Josh, almost like what’s his name and Kelly-‘ho were there as decoys so no one would suspect. And that’s not good. Yes, Josh ordered me a dink while we were waiting on our table. Yes, Josh told me I looked nice. Yes, Josh ordered my water just the way I like it when I was in the restroom. Yes, Josh pointed out that I wouldn’t like the chicken teriyaki. Yes, Josh put his hand on my back twice. Yes, Josh signaled the waiter when my glass needed filled. No, Josh was not my date, and to let myself go there can only lead to bad things. I was out with…I still can’t remember his damn name.

And how bad was that? A private school teacher? I’m not saying private education is wrong. I’m not. Ok, I am a little, but really I’m not. I understand why a parent would send their child to a private school. They’re safer, and they do have smaller classrooms and more one on one attention. But in my opinion, the negatives far outweigh the positives. But what really irked me, besides the veal of course, was the whole “arts” discussion. Non-essentials????? 

So anyway, I make it into the office at 9:00 sharp, beating Josh by nine and a half minutes. When he arrives, he has cinnamon raisin bagels with honey walnut cream cheese. You may not be familiar with Panera Bread, but their honey walnut cream cheese is better than sex. Well, probably not all sex, but definitely all the sex I’ve had. I’m guessing though, that it’s not better than sex with Josh would be. See how I go there? It’s an illness.

Josh, by the way, looks well rested and quite nice in khakis and a navy blue sweater. This man can do things with the color navy that no one else can do. And there I go again…

So, we’re sitting in his office eating bagels and cream cheese and drinking coffee, and I’m fighting the urge to test my sex with Josh versus honey walnut cream cheese theory. We’re looking over the wording of the Healthcare bill Kelly-‘ho’s office is working on, when out of the blue, Josh says, “I had a good time last night.” He says it quietly and without looking at me, and I know he meant it the way it sounded, like we were on a date. The way I’m trying desperately not to think of it.

“Yeah, me too.” And there I go thinking of it that way.

He looks up from the bill and smiles. “Yeah?” I just bit my lower lip and nod, smiling a very small smile. Oh no, it’s my shy flirting look. Get a grip, Donna!

We stare at each other for a few seconds, having one of our many moments, and when it becomes too much, I break our gaze, look back at the bill in my hands and go for a joke. “I’m surprised you were able to enjoy yourself, you’re date being…”

“Oh,” he laughs. “Like she was any worse than yours.”

I start laughing too. “She most certainly was worse than mine.”

“Worse than Monotone Mike, I don’t think so.” Ahh…Mike. Why is that so hard for me to remember?

“Please, at least Monotone Mike was friendly. Kelly-‘ho had the personality of a dish rag.”

He smiles. “Quite possibly, but at least she was attractive.”

“Oh, and Monotone Mike wasn’t? The broad shoulders, the hair, the blue eyes…”

“Well, yeah. If you like his type.”

“By his type, you mean the good-looking type?”

“Good-looking to hide the fact that he’s an idiot,” he says in a not so joking voice.

“He’s not an idiot, Josh. He just…”

“Idiot.”

I take a deep breath. Stay calm, Donna. “He’s not an idiot, he simply has different interests than you and I do.”

“Yes, interests that include NASCAR, country music…”

“The education of our youth...”

“Our rich spoiled youth, anyway,” he says a little louder.

“At least he shows some sort of compassion for man-kind. Kelly-‘ho cares about no one but herself,” I say even louder than him.

“Kelly-‘ho works with children,” he shoots back.

“For now. Until whatever power figure she dates can get her a job with the senate minority council.”

“So she wants to get ahead in life. Doesn’t want to make what, say, a private middle school math teacher makes.”

“A very good-looking middle school math teacher who knows that life is about more than money!” Now I’m pretty much yelling.

“Yeah, it’s about NASCAR and Bob Knight!” And now he’s pretty much yelling too. 

“I love Bob Knight! And I’m sure I would’ve found even more that Monotone Mike and I have in common had you and Kelly-‘ho not interrupted our date!”

“Kelly-‘ho and I did you a favor!”

“Oh please! You did yourself a favor! You couldn’t stomach being alone with her!”

“Alone with a smart, witty sexy woman? I can’t think of anything bad about that!”

“Really?”

“Really!”

“So can I assume you’ll be going out with her again?”

“I can’t think of one reason not to!”

“Would you like a list?”

“Are you jealous?”

“Jealous, me? Why would I be jealous? I went out with a very nice, socially responsible, down right hot man last night!”

He smirks and brings the noise level back to a normal volume. “Who may or may not call for a second date.”

I tilt my head and give him the smirk he taught me. “Who asked me out for tonight when he dropped me off last night.”

“Oh yeah? Well, Kelly-‘ho and I are going out tonight as well.”

‘Really, what makes you so sure she’ll say yes?”

“The fact that she couldn’t keep her hands off me last night in the cab.” Fucking whore, I’ll kill her.

“You better call her then,” I say, smiling. What’re you gonna do with that, Lyman?

“Oh, I’ll call her.” He’s bluffing.

“Go ahead,” I say, pointing to the phone. I’ll call that bluff.

“Did you tell Monotone Mike you’d go out with him tonight?”

“I told him I’d call him today.” I said no. What am I, insane? 

“Go ahead,” he says, pointing to the phone. Shit, now he’s calling my bluff. 

“You,” I say, nodding at the receiver.

He gestures towards me. “Ladies first.”

I smile while gritting my teeth. “Fine.” I pick up my day runner and get the piece of paper he scribbled his number on out of it. I’d rather eat veal than call him, but I won’t let Josh win, so I pick up the phone, look at Josh one more time hoping he’ll concede, and then I dial.

“Hello?” Damn it. He’s home.

“Hi. Is Mono…is Mike there?”

“This is Mike? Donna?”

“Hi. I just, well, I called to see if the offer still stood for dinner and a movie tonight.” The entire time, I stare at Josh.

“I thought you couldn’t go.”

“Looks like things at work aren’t going to be a problem after-all.”

“Great! I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I say, giving Josh and evil smile and trying to keep the taste of vomit out of my throat.

“Me too. See you tonight.” I disconnect and hand the receiver to Josh.

He stares at it. I know he’d rather eat rare prime rib than call her, but we’re in it now, and neither one of us can win. Finally, he pulls her business card out of his wallet, tosses it on his desk, takes the receiver from me and dials, never taking his eyes off me. “Kelly, it’s Josh Lyman… hi. Listen, I was just reading over this draft you left yesterday… no, it looks good actually. How about we discuss it over dinner tonight?… No, just the two of us, someplace quieter… good. How’s seven?… Great, I’ll meet you there.” He hangs up and looks at me. “She can’t wait.”

“She doesn’t know you very well.” I turn and start to leave his office.

“Have fun with Monotone Mike,” he says in a pissy voice.

“Have fun with Kelly-‘ho.” I spit back at him and slam the door behind me as I leave.

And then it hits me. I have to go out with what’s his name again. What have I gotten myself into?


	4. What's His Name and Kelly-'ho

Oh God, what have I done? I can’t go out with her again, I can’t. I’m not strong enough. She’s a predator; she’ll kill me. And what’s worse is that no one will know it. I won’t show up to work tomorrow and they’ll just give my job to Donna, she can do it, no problem. Bonnie and Ginger will fight over who gets to quit working for Toby and start working for her and by noon it’ll be business as usual.

How did this even happen? It was like a snowball rolling down a hill; it just kept growing and growing, moving too fast to stop until it finally crushed us both, leaving no way for either of us to win. But Donna’s safe; Monotone Mike won’t kill her. He’s nowhere near her type, granted, but he’s a nice guy. What’s her face is going to kill me; it’s over for me and I haven’t even written my memoirs. 

I’m panicking. Get a grip, Lyman. There has to be a way out of this. Think. Fake an illness? I just called her, that won’t work. Unless it’s food poisoning! That could work. Or if my car was stolen and I was forced to spend the evening dealing with the police, that could work. Or if I could arrange for Kumar to bomb someone, perhaps that would do the trick. You know what I need? I need the list I use to keep Donna from dating. I wonder where that is.

“What are you looking for?”

Oh shit! She hasn’t been in here for the last three hours and she picks now, while I’m looking for my list? I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, she has cameras in here. “Nothing.”

“You’re looking for something.”

“No I’m not.” I said that really fast.

“Whatever. I’m leaving at three.”

“Why?”

She gives me an evil smile. “I have to get ready for my big date.”

“Your big date isn’t until 7. Why do you need to leave at three?”

“I’m having a manicure and pedicure, plus I need to shave my legs.”

Legs! Why does she need to shave her legs? “Why do you need to shave your legs?” Not the voice thing. For once in my life, I’d like to sound like a man when I’m freaking out.

“I’m going to want smooth legs with the skirt I’m wearing tonight.”

Who’s going to be judging the smoothness of her legs? And why isn’t her skirt going to be long enough to cover them? “Maybe you should just wear a longer skirt! You know, if you dress… he’ll think…” Now I’m waving my arms around. Why do I do that?

She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Like I said, I’m leaving at three.” 

She wouldn’t sleep with him, would she? Just to piss me off? She wouldn’t do that, right? I wonder how long it’s been since she’s… you know. If she’s hard up, she… no, she’s not going sleep with Monotone Mike just to get me. Right?

**********

 

What is this, a job interview? We’ve been here for twenty-five minutes, and all what’s her face has talked about are her qualifications. At least Amy and Mandy were subtle about it; this one has a lot to learn. I can’t help glancing over at the door to the kitchen every time a waiter comes through it, hoping, nearly praying it’s our food so we can eat and end this mess. I’m going to have to completely over tip the waiter after the snide comment what’s her face made to him. At this point I’m only hoping he doesn’t spit in our food. Well, at least not mine. I wouldn’t complain if he spit in hers, hell, let me back there and I’ll do it myself.

“…but that was before I worked for the EPA. Did you know I worked there?”

She drones on and on about the work she did with the EPA before working for the Department of Health and Children, and I feel like I’m blacking out. I try to pass the time by thinking about Donna, but I keep picturing her in something sexy, smiling and flirting with Monotone Mike, his hand on her freshly-shaved thigh, her skirt ending four inches above her knee, just the hint of breast showing through the three buttons left open on her silky top. I’m driving myself insane.

“…that was by far the most mundane part of my existence to date.”

Like this is the most mundane part of mine to date? Of course, I could picture Donna’s date another way. I smile as I picture the two of them arguing about private education and arts in general. She’s spouting facts and figures off in a way that would make the President proud. He’s not getting it, not that he’s stupid so much as he’s set in his ways and unable to see past his own viewpoint. Finally, the discussion of sex education and making condoms available to students comes up and after arguing some more, she can’t take it and shoves his head into his soup to get him to shut-up. I like that picture better.

“…you know what I mean?”

Uh oh. I look up from my salad and smile. I have no idea what she’s talking about. How is it that a perfectly attractive woman can hold so little appeal to me? Where did the Josh go that craved these power hungry women? The one who saw them as a challenge, a fight, a game to be won? I mean really, she’s quite attractive. I mean, she’s no Donna, but with the alabaster skin and the gorgeous naturally blonde hair that hangs so beautifully around her face, who could be? Still, once upon a time I would’ve found this woman attractive. I would’ve been drawn to her…frankness, to put it nicely. She has shoulder length dark brown hair, she’s petite, short… to be honest, she looks like a cross between Amy and Mandy. Short and petite like Mandy, hair like Amy’s, outright vicious like Mandy, hiding behind a worthwhile cause like Amy. At one point in my life, she would’ve been my type. I find myself feeling a little ill at the thought that I’ve not only found women like her attractive, but that I’ve dated them and even slept with them.

“…at least she knows her place. There’s a difference between knowing facts and understanding something well enough to offer a valid opinion.”

Her place? What poor unsuspecting woman is she talking about now? “Uh, ok.” Whatever.

“Take your press secretary for example. Her job is to handle the press. She tells them what’s happening with the decisions you make, she doesn’t make decisions, she doesn’t offer up advice to the President. She knows that’s not her job.”

I slowly put my salad fork down and look up at her. What’s her face has no idea what danger she’s in right now. If CJ had heard that, she would’ve killed her here on the spot. Sure, she would’ve gone on living, but it would have been a shell of her prior existence, and probably wouldn’t have been in the DC area. Damn, I wish CJ was here. “Actually, CJ is very vocal to the President. She’s one of his chief advisors, and advising him is most definitely part of her job.”

She tilts her head and smiles a little bit. That’s the first time I’ve seen her smile, it’s kind of weird. It makes me think that must be what a serial killer looks like when he smiles. “Well, that didn’t help my theory, did it?”

I take another bite of my salad. I’m purposely eating quickly so the waiter will take heed and get our main dishes out. Surely he knows I’m dying over here. He’s seen the pleas for help I’ve been giving him with my eyes. “Theory?”

“That some people don’t know their place. Like your secretary for instance.” My eyes shoot up. “She knew enough about classical music last night to know that I like Baroque. She didn’t pretend to know enough to offer an opinion on it herself. She knew the facts, but that doesn’t make her a classical musician.”

Stay calm Josh. “Actually, my assistant, who has a name, loves classical music. Just because she didn’t mention any specifics…”

She cuts me off. “You’re misunderstanding me. I’m not putting her down; in fact I’m complimenting her. I’m a fan of classical, specifically Baroque music, and my reasons for liking it are purely aesthetic. I wouldn’t think to tell someone who prefers Mozart that Bach was the better composer. I don’t know enough about it to make that judgment. And Donna was the same way, she didn’t offer up commentary on why one composer or work is better than another. That wasn’t her place in the conversation, just as it wasn’t mine.”

Oh. Well, that’s ok, I guess. I nod. “Just for information purposes, she likes Russian composers. Shostakovich, Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev…”

“And I don’t know much about them, so I won’t comment.” I nod. This isn’t so bad. “My concern with your secretary… sorry, your assistant, came during the discussion with her boyfriend.” Or maybe it is that bad.

“He’s not her boyfriend.” Hmm… that came out pretty defensively, with a rather large stress on the word ‘not.’

“Whatever,” she says as though she couldn’t care less, and let’s face it, she probably couldn’t. “The way she went off about the arts programs… I mean, he’s the teacher, don’t you think he knows more on the subject than a secretary does?”

“Actually, our administration has worked on arts in education extensively. Donna knows more than her fair share. In fact, I’ve never known Donna to spout off about something unless she has a clear grasp of it.” I leave that hang there for a minute and try to control my anger. I did this. I asked for a second night of this. This is how she is, and I’m not going to go off like a barbarian in the middle of Bardeo’s. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to use the restroom,” I say, standing up.

I stand in the restroom for a few minutes and try to get a hold of myself. I can’t do this much longer. When is the main dish coming and why didn’t I give more thought to the food poisoning idea? 

I’ve messed up. It’s time to be a man and admit it. And I need to hear Donna’s voice. I take out my cell and call her. Pick up. Pick up. Pick….damn it, her voice mail. “This is Donna Moss, assistant to Josh Lyman. Please leave your name and number, as well as what this is concerning and either Josh or I will get back to you as soon as possible.”

Maybe it’s because I couldn’t defend her out there the way I wanted to. Maybe it’s because I got angry and pushed this morning. Maybe it’s because I just like talking to her, but as soon as I hear the beep, I start ranting. “Donna, it’s Josh. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was wrong. She is worse than Monotone Mike. She’s worse than Amy, she’s worse than Mandy; hell she might be worse than Hitler. She’s a living nightmare. We’ve only been here….oh man, 42 minutes. I’m not going to make it. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I mean really, what were we thinking this morning? Anyway, I’ve been hiding in the bathroom for several minutes now, so I have to go back out there. I’m sorry if your night is as bad as mine, and I hope your skirt isn’t too short. And, well, if you get this, and you want to call me back and get me out of this nightmare with a fake emergency, I’d welcome it, but if you want to make me suffer through the night, that’s ok. I deserve it. Call me when you get home so I know your ok. Bye.”

And with that, I take a deep breath and go back out to what’s her face.

**********

The vibrating of my cell phone wakes me from the coma I’m in while waiting on our main dish to come. Thank goodness our next stop is a movie. At least what’s his name will have to be quiet for two solid hours. It’s not so much what he says as how he says it. His voice is so freakin’ monotone. I have to keep blinking to make sure I’m sill alive.

I look down at the caller i.d. It’s Josh. Hmm… should I get it? He’s probably calling to tell me what a great time he’s having. To tell me that if I need him in the morning, I’m going to have to call his cell, because he won’t be home. Bastard. I actually don’t think there’s any chance at all that he’s really having a good time, but he might fake it for my benefit. Of course, he could be calling me about a work emergency, so I should answer. I’ll let the voicemail get it, and then I’ll check it, in case it’s work related.

I remember telling Josh this morning that if he and Kelly-‘ho hadn’t interrupted our date, I might have found some things that what’s his name and I have in common. Well, I was wrong about that. Apparently, there’s some woman named Deborah Renshaw who he’s a fan of, and he’s also pretty complimentary about some guy named Keith Urban. I don’t have anything against either of them, but of course, how could I? I’ve never heard of them.

When my phone buzzes once more, telling me that I have a message, I excuse myself to use the restroom. Please oh please let my chicken teriyaki be here when I get back so we can eat and get to the theatre to move this thing along. When I call my voicemail, I find that Josh has left me a very sweet message. 

“Donna, it’s Josh. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was wrong. She is worse than Monotone Mike. She’s worse than Amy, she’s worse than Mandy; hell she might be worse than Hitler. She’s a living nightmare. We’ve only been here….oh man, 42 minutes. I’m not going to make it. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I mean really, what were we thinking this morning? Anyway, I’ve been hiding in the bathroom for several minutes now, so I have to go back out there. I’m sorry if your night is as bad as mine, and I hope your skirt isn’t too short. And, well, if you get this, and you want to call me back and get me out of this nightmare with a fake emergency, I’d welcome it, but if you want to make me suffer through the night, that’s ok. I deserve it. Call me when you get home so I know your ok. Bye.”

I can’t help smiling as I picture him staring at his fork like it might be better to just shove it through his eardrum rather than listen to her talk any longer. I know I’ve been staring at mine that way the entire evening.

I could call him, and he could use it as a way to get out of his date, but that’s not fair. It’s not fair to Kelly-‘ho, who he asked out just to prove a point to me, and it’s certainly not fair to me. If I have to suffer through this night, so does he. Of course, I could have him call me back with an excuse to get me out of my date, but that wouldn’t be fair to what’s his name, who only got a second date out of me because I was trying to prove a point to Josh. What webs we weave.

On the other hand, I don’t want Josh to think that I hate him or that I’m pissed at him. I mean, yeah, I was pissed, but that fight we had this morning took two. He didn’t cause it completely alone, and I didn’t have to drag what’s his name into it, so I’m just as much to blame as he is. Well, not as much, really. He’s more to blame, but I’m a little to blame.

In the end, I decide to text him. This way, he’ll see that I’m not mad, but won’t be able to use it to get out of his date. After several tries, this is what I come up with. “Having similar night. We’re idiots. At least I get Tom Hanks and Milkduds later. Be nice, we caused this. Will call when I get home. Skirt ankle length.” 

And with that, I take a deep breath and go back out to what’s his name.


	5. The Date Swap

Dinner goes as excruciatingly painful as the salad course went. By the time we get our food, I’d do just about anything to get out of eating it. But then we go to the theater, where things can only get better. Two hours of no conversation, spent in the dark not having to pretend to be interested, Milkduds, and maybe some buttered popcorn. I don’t get to the movies that often, but in my opinion, buttered popcorn is a must. The stale taste, the butter “flavoring,” the orange salt on the countertop… that’s what movies are made of. 

Anyway, we get to the theater ten minutes before the movie starts, and what’s his name buys our tickets. Then we go inside to get in line at the concession stand. There are only four people in front of us, but I immediately begin to worry that we’re going to miss the previews, and everyone knows the previews are the best part. You can be pretty sure that most movies these days suck, but previews have a way of making just about any piece of crap look like it could be entertaining.

So, we’re in line and my cell phone buzzes telling me I have a text message. It’s from Josh, of course. I press read, and see, “Where are you?” This tells me he’s either a: found a way to ditch Kelly-‘ho and is now seeking to gain enjoyment from my misfortunes, or b: he’s so incredibly bored on his date with Kelly-‘ho that he’s seeking to gain enjoyment from my misfortunes. Either way, it’s my misfortune he’s looking for.

I keep up idle chit-chat with what’s his face and type in “Theater, you?” Let’s face it; I’m seeking to gain enjoyment from his misfortunes as well.

What’s his name is trying hard to decide between Goobers and Raisinetts, discussing the differences with me as though I’ve never been to a movie in my life. One is peanuts, the other raisins. JUST PICK ONE!!! Sorry, I’m losing patience.

My phone buzzes again as we move up in line. Only two to go and 6 minutes left. We’re doing ok here. I check the message. “In line for tickets, don’t go in without us.”

What? What? What? I’m sorry, what? He followed me to the movie theater? What the hell, what’s his name is going to think Josh is stalking me. This is… wrong. Inexcusable. Sick. Unforgivable. Yet, here I stand at the concession stand with a huge smile on my face. I need professional help.

We just get to the front of the line when they walk in. “Donna, Mike, hey!” Josh yells from across the room as though he can’t believe he ran into us here. My question is, how did he know this was the theater we were going to? I, of course, give him a glare. Can’t let him know how happy I am to see him. It’s part of our thing.

“Josh,” what’s his name says with a big smile on his face. He really is a nice guy. Completely boring, but a nice guy. “This is a surprise!”

“Yeah, what are the chances?” Josh says, stealing a glance my way.

“What are you guys going to see?”

“The Tom Hanks movie, you?” he asks as though he doesn’t know.

“Same.”

“What a coincidence,” I deadpan. 

Just then, the sixteen year-old concession worker with the red vest and pre-tied bowtie puts two medium pops, a box of Milkduds and a box of Goobers on the filthy, oily, salty, balled up napkin ridden, stray straws lying all over the place glass counter. “$11.50.”

Josh turns to Kelly-‘ho. “Want something?”

She smiles a down right freaky smile. It’s like serial killer smile; I’m a little scared. “Bottled water.”

“Add a large buttered popcorn, a bottled water, and a medium coke to that please,” Josh says, handing the kid his debit card. Yay! Buttered popcorn!

“Uhh…” what’s his face says, dumbfounded. He no doubt doesn’t know how to handle another man paying for his date. Who would?

“Don’t worry about it,” Josh says, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. “You can get it next time.” Ok, is it my imagination, or is Josh being genuinely kind to what’s his name? I stare at him and he smiles big at me. Is it possible that the last hour and a half has been so bad that he’s actually happy to have contact with any human, even Monotone Mike? 

“Thanks, that’s a plan,” says Monotone Mike. Ok, just for the record, even if Josh double dog dares me, there won’t be a next time.

Once Josh has paid the $21.25 for the garbage we’re about to consume, we head into the theater. The previews haven’t started yet, so I’m happy. We’re walking down the isle when I feel a familiar hand on my lower back. I turn my head to glare at Josh, but he looks so cute. He’s trying to balance the popcorn and his drink in one hand so the other one is free to be on my back. How do get mad at that?

“Josh,” I whisper harshly.

“Right, sorry,” he whispers back, taking his hand off me. I really don’t think he even realizes he does it.

We walk down a row near the back and head towards seats. What’s his name goes in first, followed by Josh, then me and then Kelly-‘ho, whose smile I’m still a little freaked out by. What’s his name picks a seat and sits down, and Josh sits next to him and props his feet up on the seat in front of him. “Uh, Josh…” I say.

“Yeah?” he asks looking up at me.

“Um…” I say, gesturing to Monotone Mike.

“Oh, right,” he says, smirking at me. “You’d probably like to sit next to your escort.” Not really, but it seems like the right thing to do.

“If that’s alright.”

“Sure,” he says standing up and giving me his seat. He then sits next to me and Kelly-‘ho sits on the end, next to him. Just as the lights go down, the music gets loud, and the curtain opens on the screen, he leans in and whispers, “Just trying to give you an out.”

I turn my head and whisper back. “You’re just afraid to sit next to her.”

“Yeah, that too.”

**********

We’re about a half hour into the movie when I feel something brush my left shoulder. Is Donna making a move on me? I mean, I’m all for it, but we’re on dates, and not with each other. I look to my left and see Monotone Mike’s hand resting on Donna’s shoulder. What the hell?

What’s happening here? Is he making a move on the mother of my children right in front of me? What should I do? Pick his hand up and move it off her shoulder? Challenge him to a duel? Take one of his fingers and bend it backwards until it breaks or he moves his hand willingly? I think about it for a minute and settle for bumping into Donna’s side rather hard at an attempt to jar his hand from her.

“Ow!” she says pretty loudly.

“Oops,” I say, but look at Monotone Mike’s hand. He hasn’t moved it. I wait a minute and try again.

“Ow!” she says even louder.

“Sorry.” She responds by elbowing me in the side really hard and eating some of my popcorn.

“Ow!”

“Serves you right,” she whispers, taking some more popcorn. I move it onto my left leg so it’s easier for her to get to. Then I look over and notice his hand is still on her shoulder. I need something sharp.

After that, I try to sit still and concentrate on the movie, but I’m struggling. Between Donna reaching into my lap every minute or so and Monotone Mike trying to feel her up, the movie’s the last thing on my mind. I keep glancing at it, trying to will it to move, but it’s not working. Finally, I lean over to Donna. “Trade me places.”

“What?” she whispers back, still looking at the screen.

“Trade me places.”

“Why?” She’s paying no attention to me whatsoever, but manages reach over and get more of the popcorn.

“Donna, trade me.”

Finally she takes her eyes off the screen and glares at me. I can’t really see her eyes, but I can feel them boring into me. It’s a glare, I can tell. “Why?” she whispers harshly.

Instead of answering, I nod towards the hand on her shoulder. She just shakes her head and turns back towards the screen. What’s going on? 

I make it about another two minutes before I decide to take matters into my own hands. I get my cell from my pocket and stare at it as though I’ve got a call. Then I whisper, “hello… ok, hold on,” into it. Then I stand up, grabbing Donna by the hand, and wave my cell towards what’s her face and Monotone Mike. “Work, we’ll be right back.” They nod and go back to watching the movie.

**********

“Josh, what’s going on?” I ask as soon as we’re out in the hall. I know damn well his cell didn’t ring.

“What’s going on? That’s what I want to know.”

“Well, it’s a movie about a guy…”

“Not that, and you know it. He’s groping you in there and you’re not doing a damn thing about it!” He’s pacing back and forth in the 3-foot alcove we’re in near the restrooms.

I try not to laugh, but really, groping? “He’s not groping me, Josh,” I say calmly.

“Not groping you? What the hell do you call that?”

“I call it a hand on my shoulder.”

“Exactly!” he says loudly, stopping right in front of me and gesturing frantically towards my…breast?

“That’s not my shoulder, Josh.”

“But that’s what he’s aiming for!”

“What?” And why do I like that Josh is staring at my breast?

“Donna, don’t you know anything about men and movie theaters?” I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about, so I just stare at him. “In movie theaters, men start with the shoulder and work their way south to the…” he gestures towards my breast again.

“That’s ridiculous.” Actually, now that I think about it, that’s pretty close to the truth.

“I’m a man, Donna, I know what’s going on here.”

“You’re losing it, Josh. Now can we go back to the movie?” I ask, walking back towards the door.

“We’re switching places.”

“No we’re not.”

“Donna!”

“Josh!”

“Fine, but I’m keeping an eye on him and…”

“My breast?”

“If I have to,” he says indignantly, putting his hand on my back and leading me back to our seats. I try to act put out, but I love jealous Josh, he’s adorable.

**********

We’re not in our seats very long when Monotone Mike makes his play again. Donna giggles a little bit, but I don’t see what’s so funny about it. Would it be too much to ask for everyone to keep their hands to themselves? What’s her face and I are managing it just fine.

What happens next is not my fault and cannot be blamed on me. I just want the out there from the beginning. Not my fault. I’m attempting to concentrate on the movie when Donna reaches over and puts her hand on my thigh. Very high on my thigh. Very, very high on my thigh. In fact, it’s not my thigh at all, if you know what I mean. When I feel this, I immediately stiffen. I mean my body, you pervert. Although, truth be told, yes, that stiffens too. And then we’re sitting very still with her hand on my very alert… and we’re both staring at the screen. And then she very carefully removes her hand and places it in her lap.

A good two minutes go by before either one of moves or says anything or maybe even breathes, and I finally move my head the slightest bit to look at her. She turns her head slightly my way and we’re not quite facing each other. “Popcorn,” she whispers.

Apparently she was reaching for the popcorn, which I sat on the floor when we left to have our little hand on breast talk. Unfortunately, from the waist down, I’m still pretty worked up about what just happened, so I’m not completely comfortable. I shift a little bit and pick up the popcorn from the floor. “Here,” I whisper back.

“Thanks.” She cautiously takes some and we’re quiet again.

It’s a few minutes later when I reach for the cup in the cup holder between our seats. I get it almost all the way to my mouth when she reaches for it while still looking at the screen. Once again, her aim is less than perfect, and her fingers graze my lips, causing me to harshly suck in air. She no doubt felt that. She eventually gets her fingers around the cup, and they tangle with mine, and suddenly the stiffening problem I had a few minutes before is back, in both ways. 

We slowly bring the cup down together, both of us staring at our hands. “That’s diet,” she whispers. “Yours is over there.” She tilts her head towards the cup holder between what’s her face and me.

“Right, sorry.” Neither one of us lets go of the cup for a few seconds.

The next time she picks her cup up to take a drink, I put my arm on the armrest, trying to relax and get back to some semblance of normal breathing. It’s also worth mentioning that although I’ve had my eyes glued to the screen, I haven’t watched a single second of this movie since the hand in lap thing happened. Anyway, when she puts her cup back in the holder, she rests her arm on top of mine. Normal movie procedure for this is that whoever’s arm was there first gets to keep the armrest, am I right? Or is it that the man always gives it up. I’m not sure, but suffice it to say that neither of us moves our arm. So we sit there for a few more minutes with her arm on top of mine, her hand resting on mine. Suddenly the breathing thing becomes even more difficult.

But the straw breaks the camel’s back when my fingers spread a little bit, of their own accord, and hers slip between them and then her thumb starts slowly rubbing back and forth on the back of my hand, and that’s when I reach back into my right pocket and pull out my phone again. “hello….ok, hold on.” I stand up, grab Donna’s hand, and wave my phone at what’s her face and Monotone Mike, who nod and keep watching the movie. 

We walk up the isle to the doors leading out to the hallway, and I turn around to find out what the hell’s going on. “Donna…” That’s all I get out because she has me pushed up against the wall just inside the theater doors and we’re kissing and my arms are around her waist pulling her as close to me as I possibly can and her hands are around my neck and her fingers are in my hair and it feels incredible. Then our mouths are open and our tongues are in perfect rhythm and one of us is moaning. I think it’s me. In fact, I hope it’s me, because the other one of us is making little squeaking noises, and I hope that’s not me. And the stiffening problem, yeah, that’s still there.

I push on her and suddenly I have her against something, another wall I guess, and my hands leave her waist and start rubbing up and down her sides, pulling her shirt up just a little as I go. My thumbs graze the sides of her breasts, and now were both moaning, and I swear I’m about to hike her very long skirt up and take her right here in the middle of the crowded theater when suddenly she’s falling backwards and I’m falling on top of her and there’s a rather loud thud and we land on something. Luckily, it’s pitch black and no one can really see what’s going on.

I stand up and pull her up with me and we look behind her at the huge theater trashcan that we’ve made out against and tipped over, which is just disgusting. Then I tug on her waist and we’re back against the wall we started on and we’re kissing again. Screw the trashcan.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” I whisper when I’m finally able to tear my lips from her neck a few minutes later.

“We can’t go, we have dates,” she whispers back between bites on my neck. I’m finding it particularly hard to stand at this point, so I grab her face in my hands and bring her lips back to mine.

A while goes by before I’m able to speak again. “We can say there’s an emergency at work,” I mumble sucking her earlobe into my mouth.

“That would be rude,” she moans. I must have her now.

“And this isn’t?” I ask just before devouring her lips again.

“Good point,” she sighs against my lips and kisses me some more. We break apart a minute or… ten later, and she tells me that we’re going back to our dates. I whine, but she promises to make it up to me later. So, we head back in and sit down.

**********

Well, that’s not something I do everyday. You know, the going to a movie with one man and almost having sex with another during said movie thing. 

Josh and I finally tear ourselves away from each other and head back to our seats. It’s very hard to keep our hands from roaming, and I find myself wondering how long this damn movie is going to go on for when I feel it. Oh yes, what’s his name has his hand back on my shoulder. This isn’t going to go over well.

As soon as I feel the hand, which by the way, hasn’t headed south towards my breast even one time, Josh’s head snaps my way. I look over at him and put my hand on his knee to try to calm him, but he’s freaking out.

“Donna…” 

“Shh…”

“Donna…” a little louder. And then a miracle takes place. The music swells and the ending credits roll and I jump up out of my seat, dislodging the hand on my shoulder before my… I don’t even know what to call him, beats the hell out of my date. Or at least tries to.

We gather our things, and I admit, I’m a little sad to see that we didn’t finish the $6 popcorn, but seeing as how I’m going to be having sex in the very near future, I’m gonna let it go.

As soon as we’re outside in the light, Josh makes an excuse that we’re needed at work right away. We’re trying to act very apologetic, but Josh has a smirk and his dimples, and he’s swaggering, and I’m sure I’m blushing and smiling like I never have before.

What’s his name offers to drop me off, but Josh is NOT having it. I don’t think anything in the world is going to get him to agree to me being alone in a cab with this guy now. Especially not after the last shoulder incident. Then, what’s his name offers to drop off Kelly-‘ho for us so we can get into the office, and to my utter surprise, she doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. Anyway, all that to say that I leave with Josh and Monotone Mike and Kelly-‘ho head off together.

The cab hasn’t even pulled away from the curb when Josh and I are making out in the back seat like seventeen year-olds breaking curfew. “Where to?” the cabby asks, and we both spout off Josh’s address without any thought.

**********

Four hours and five orgasms later (three for her, two for me), we’re lying in bed naked and sweaty. There’s much to discuss, including but not limited to work, but for now, everything’s perfect and neither one of us is willing to change that.

I’m lying on my back, with Donna draped over me, head on my chest, eyes closed, randomly kissing whatever she can reach, when out of the blue she says, “We should send them candy.”

“Who?” I ask lazily, one hand buried in her hair, the other intertwined with hers on my chest.

“Monotone Mike and Kelly-‘ho.”

“Why?” I ask, laughing a little.

“To thank them. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were both completely undatable…”

“I wouldn’t be doing this,” I reply, rolling us over and attacking her chest with my mouth. She giggles, but it quickly becomes a sigh and then a squeak and then a moan and Kelly-‘ho and Monotone Mike are quickly forgotten.


End file.
